


To Fall Dreaming Again

by kunimi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Graduation, this is why im a problem child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 10:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14447478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunimi/pseuds/kunimi
Summary: Graduation is a day of forced smiles and posing for pictures, but the day after that? Comfort, warmth and maybe a little bit of reminiscing.





	To Fall Dreaming Again

**Author's Note:**

> april Prompt: first day after graduation

Tooru is lying on his bed, head resting near the edge and soft brown locks splayed out. Lying on the wrong side like this, his toes can barely graze his pillow, but _that's not important, definitely not the most important thing here, not right now_. His fingers are absentmindedly drawing circles on his alien comforter, but his brown eyes are fixated on his bedroom ceiling, watching, staring at the pale green of the star-shaped stickers, which sticks out against the white paint. His breaths comes in with even pauses in between, just as consistent as the clock's ticking in his room.

Today is different from yesterday. Yesterday. He remembers his mother fretting over him, making sure that his bed hair was nowhere to be seen; he remembers his sibling's constant snickering in the background; he remembers the energy, the many pictures taken. He's never had to keep a smile for so long, before.

 _Graduation day,_ Tooru decides as he exhales, _is a day of forced smiles and posing uncomfortably._ Definitely not a day he'd like to relive too many times. Then again, he can't really say he disliked the attention.

The peace is disturbed by a soft click, Tooru can hear the door swing open, the familiar sound of his childhood's friend footsteps, but he doesn't turn to look at him. He keeps his eyes on the stickers, thinking. _Chocolate brown and pale green. Like mint chocolate._

“Tooru,” a voice calls out to him and Tooru closes his eyes, listens to the familiar voice. “What are you doing?”

Tooru slowly opens his eyes again, and there's his best friend, dark hair all spiky and forest green eyes gazing confusedly at him. He's wearing that black tank top, the one with ‘king’ written on it, but it's slightly cold outside, and Tooru wonders if he simply threw his jacket away the moment he stepped in Tooru's house.

“Hey, Poopykawa—”

“I had a dream, Hajime-chan,” Tooru says, and Hajime shuts up immediately to listen. “It started with only the two of us. We were playing volleyball, I think, outside in the park. And then we weren't outside. We were inside a gym, playing. In a team of six, against another team in black. I can't remember the details. But we were good.”

Hajime is quiet. So quiet, Tooru would have thought he'd left if he wasn't literally standing in front of him. _Ah, is it weird to tell him about this?_ Tooru thinks. But Hajime was there, in the dream. _Do people not tell their best friends about their dreams?_

“Was it a sad dream?”

Tooru's eyes finally leave his ceiling, and chocolate brown eyes meet dark green eyes. _Not chocolate mint._ “No,” he smiles, “because you were with me.”

Hajime grins back at him, holds up the volleyball Tooru keeps at the foot of his bed, and extends his hand towards him. “Then it's all good. Want to play some volleyball after breakfast?”

Tooru only takes his hand as a reply.

 

* * *

 

Tooru is lying on his back, head resting at the foot of his bed, chocolate brown eyes gazing at the stars. His feet rest comfortably on his pillow, but his alien comforter is gone, _it's too small for this bed, and you're growing up, Tooru,_ his mom has said. It's not like he cares, nope, not at all, it wasn't _that_ important to him or anything.

It's hidden inside his closet, completely in the back. It's not like Tooru takes it out often, anyways, of course not, _really, it doesn't matter to me_ , he says as he reaches for it when Iwaizumi brings it out. His best friend sits next to him instead of laying near him, _you can't be comfortable and look at me eye to eye, lying down, because you're short, right?_ Then Tooru laughs as Iwaizumi retaliates with an elbow to his side.

The stars he stuck on the ceiling aren't glowing, it's too bright, too early for them to light up. He can make out the faded outline of a star and the remnants of the foam sticker that was used to hold up the biggest star which now rests on his bedside table.

Tooru has tried to make it stay up there. He used more tape. He used a glue stick. He would have used hot glue, if his mother hadn't stopped him. At that time, anything would have worked if it kept the star high up on his ceiling, among the smaller stars.

_Hetrieshetrieshetrieshetries, but is it ever good enough?_

“What are you thinking about, Oikawa?” a familiar voice asks and Tooru basks in that familiarity, savours it while it's still there because nothing is ever sure anymore.

He asked Iwaizumi to help him that first time the star fell from its place, after his mom stopped him from using hot glue, merely a month after he stuck them all. Iwaizumi had taken more double-sided tape, a piece of paper, then managed to get that huge star to stick. Tooru believed that it would stay there forever. That if it did, then Iwaizumi would always be by his side.

Even if his best friend is sitting there, next to him on his bed, Tooru can't help but doubt. _Stay,_ he wants to say, but can he really chain him down like that?

“Oikawa?”

“About a dream,” Tooru finally answers, after a few moments of silence. “I was alone, sitting on a throne, with nobody by my side. No one ever visited. No one ever came. Even if it was a dream, I thought I was going to die like that, alone and lonely. It was terrifying.”

There's more to the story. Tooru knows that. Iwaizumi knows that. And Tooru knows that Iwaizumi knows there's more to the dream than what he has told. But Iwaizumi doesn't prod him for more details. He only takes Tooru's hand, entwines their fingers together as he has done millions (okay, maybe just a dozen) of times and squeezes in reassurance.

“Was there a happy ending to it?”

Tooru closes his eyes, enjoys the feeling of Iwaizumi's hand in his. “I don't know. When I thought I was never going to be free from the darkness, you came and kept me company. But the castle was no more. Ushiwaka-chan had attacked it until it was nothing but ruins.”

He goes quiet again, but the ticking of the clock keeps going, and then he sits up and lets go of Iwaizumi's hand. He blinks rapidly in an effort to keep the tears at bay, but it's a futile effort and a few slip out, sliding on his cheeks.

His best friend reaches out to him, wraps an arm around his shoulder, pulls him close and holds him there, without saying a word. Tooru only grips his shirt and buries his face into his neck, shoulders trembling slightly.

“We only got one set off them as Kitagawa Daiichi students,” Tooru says.

“I know.”

“Kitaiichi has Tobio-chan now.”

“I know.”

“They'll probably be able to do it,” Tooru whispers, clenches his fist harder around the fabric of Iwaizumi's shirt. “With Tobio-chan, they may have a chance to win over Shiratorizawa.”

“Maybe,” Iwaizumi hums as he rubs comforting motions on Tooru's back.

“I tried so hard,” Tooru cries, shoulders shaking, his tears staining his best friend's shirt but Iwaizumi doesn't mind. “I've practiced serves until my knee couldn't handle it anymore. I practiced setting until I was able to best fit everyone's preferences. But we only won one set. Wasn't it enough? How much more do I have to work for this?”

“It's okay, you've done your best, I know you did,” Iwaizumi holds him slightly tighter, as if he feared that Tooru would disappear if he didn't hold on, which is completely absurd because he's the one who's more likely to vanish into thin air. “A team's made up of six people for a reason. We'll work together to beat Shiratorizawa this time, with you on the team, anything's possible.”

It would have been so, _so_ easy to believe him, but Tooru couldn't because _the trophy's sitting right there, best setter, but I—we still couldn't do it._

Yesterday has been a day of tears and separation, along with a little too many fake smiles and pictures. Yesterday, they were Kitagawa Daiichi students, standing proudly with a smile on the stage as they received their diplomas. Today, they are only Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime, not yet Aoba Johsai students, but close enough, Tooru supposes. That means a new team, a new coach, a new way of training, but Iwaizumi is still by his side.

Iwaizumi pushes him off gently, smirks slightly at the sight of Tooru's red-rimmed eyes as he wipes what's left of his tears, _definitely an ugly crier,_ he says and Tooru gasps indignantly, looking completely offended as Iwaizumi snickers. “Come on now, Crappykawa, your mom's probably done preparing lunch. We can go practice some more after if you'd like.”

“Yeah,” Tooru mumbles as he follows Iwaizumi, reminiscing the feeling of his warmth, and filing that memory away to forever remember it.

 

* * *

 

Tooru is lying on his bed, feet resting on his pillow, but he's not alone. Iwaizumi's next to him (rather, they're just holding each other there, not sure who's holding who but _damn, Iwa-chan's arms feel great_ ), his feet also on the pillow, but their legs are purposely tangled. Honestly, they could get out of this situation easily, but neither of them feel like it.

It's a bit darker now, and Tooru can barely notice the glow emitted by the stars on his ceiling. There are a lot less of them now, compared to six years ago, but there are also new ones, birthday gifts from the two other third years who played so often with him and Iwaizumi on the court.  

Planets and shooting stars now also adorn the ceiling too, of a pink a little too similar to Hanamaki's hair, _so that you remember us_ , Makki said, _Matsukawa who chose the shapes and me with the pink._ Tooru didn't expect any less from those two.

“Shittykawa, you really still have that ratty alien comforter?” Iwaizumi asks with laughter laced in his voice. They've spent years together, but even so, Tooru believes that he'll never ever get sick of hearing Iwaizumi's voice.

“Aliens are cool,” is his only answer. He savours the sound of Iwaizumi's chuckles as it fills the air, smiling slightly as well and holds on just a little more tighter onto him.

The clock in his room doesn't ever stop ticking. It doesn't stop as their breaths mingle with each other's, it doesn't stop as their eyes flutter close, it doesn't stop as their lips meet, it doesn't stop, doesn't stop, doesn't stop. Tooru doesn't care anyways.

It's still ticking when they break from the first kiss, but then they go in for another, and another, and another, until there's nothing but the sound of their uneven breaths filling their ears, and until the sound of the clock is barely noticeable anymore.

Tooru lays his head on Iwaizumi's shoulder as they separate, still lying down on his bed, silently laments the distance between the two of them, but the words don't ever make it past his lips. It's enough, for now. Enough that Iwaizumi's here by his side, enough that he returns his feelings, enough that he's willing to spend forever with Tooru.

“Every night after graduation,” Tooru starts in a murmur, almost inaudible but he's pretty sure Iwaizumi can hear him anyways, “I feel like I have a more vivid dream than the other nights. Isn't it strange?”

“Not particularly,” Iwaizumi whispers back, _why were they even whispering,_ but who cares about that when his fingers are absentmindedly running through his brown locks, and _gods it's soothing._

Tooru closes his eyes, smiles slightly, enjoys the feeling while it lasts. “I dreamed about many lives, last night. I was a merman. A fairy. A sprite. A coffee shop worker. A demon. I dreamed of being Oikawa Tooru, times and times again, in different settings and different timelines, with different futures, different pasts.”

Iwaizumi pauses his stroking and lets out an exasperated huff. “Seems like it's still just you being a narcissist. Anything else you want to mention about it?”

“Yeah,” Tooru hums as he takes Iwaizumi's hand, then presses a kiss to the back of it. “In all of them, you were by my side, supporting me. Always there for me, even if I had cut you off. So this time—” Oikawa twists his neck up slightly to look at the boy with the spiky dark hair and the forest green eyes— “let me be here for you.”

It's easy to notice things which are out of place when everything has been the same for a long, long time. It's no different for Tooru when it comes to Iwaizumi. He's always been good at figuring out if people don't feel like they're in tip top shape.

He's figured it all out yesterday, during graduation. Tooru is the boy who wears fake smiles and poses happily for everyone, but Iwaizumi is the one who smiles genuinely, a little bashfully maybe, then stands awkwardly when people ask for a picture with him. He's definitely not the one who forgets to look at the camera, nor is he the one who plasters a forced smile during pictures. 

And he definitely does not keep gnawing at his lip for more than ten seconds.

“It's okay, Hajime,” Tooru calls him by his given name, calls him in the way he hasn't done in a very long time, and that's all that takes for the dam to break, he supposes.

It's an endless wave of _I'm sorry_ and _I should have done better_ and Tooru's heart breaks just there, because they did their best, they all did, all six, seven, eight of them, it was good enough _but not enough._ But all he can do is be there for him and try to kiss his tears away and repeatedly tell him a mixture of _you did your best_ and _I love you_ and _it's alright._

Tooru holds his best friend close as sobs shake his shoulders, hiccups take over his throat and tears flow endlessly from his eyes, _beautiful forest green eyes and the small clear stream,_ Tooru imagines, but really, not the right time, right now.

It's a while before it's all quiet again, the ticking of the clock endlessly, annoyingly present, the two of them still holding onto each other, eyes closed, breaths slow, hands intertwined and legs still tangled. The stars and planets on his ceiling are glowing a little brighter now, even if they can't light up the room at all. _This is what home feels like_ , Tooru thinks, and he wonders, _is it the same for Iwa-chan?_

“We should probably go down for dinner soon,” Iwaizumi points out quietly.

“Yeah,” Tooru breathes, but he keeps his eyes closed, makes no move to get up, keeps laying there, on his bed, feet on the pillow.

It goes quiet again, the silence always interrupted by the clock. Tooru opens his eyes, finds dark green eyes already staring at him, then smiles lazily at the sight.

“I'll miss you,” Iwaizumi finally says.

“I know,” Tooru replies and he almost laughs at the annoyed look on his best friend's face, but then he adds, “because I'll miss you too.”

It's a bit dark outside, but not too dark, the lights in his room are turned off and the stars and planet on his ceiling only light themselves up, selfishly. Yet, they are also the only witnesses to their affection, the subtle touches and the slow kisses they share together, on his bed, as if they had all the time in the world (but they don't, his mom calls them down for dinner soon after).

 

* * *

 

Tooru is lying on his bed, head on the pillow, soft brown locks splayed out and chocolate brown eyes staring at the space left in between the bright glowing stars that are still present on his ceiling. It's the same thing he's been looking at since he was a child, but there's something different, _but what,_ the view is still the same isn't it?

He's not sure.

However, he _is_ sure that he's alone in his room, his adored alien comforter is still in the back of his closet and the _goddamned_ clock is somehow _still_ ticking, _how is it working still after years of being hung up on the wall?_

Tooru doesn't remember a time where he found that sound to be soothing. Rather than that, it's mostly been the annoying ticking and the distraction at three in the morning. But just like his (ratty) alien comforter, just like the stars that light only themselves on his ceiling, it's been there all along and Tooru can't remember a time where it hasn't been.

He closes his eyes, lets the exasperating sound wash over him and falls down tumbling, tumbling down the rabbit hole like Alice but he falls into the memories of yesterday. He remembers the too many fake smiles he'd pasted on his face, the cheering and the crying and the _congratulations on graduating!_ and his parents' tear-stained face with the awkward smiles.

 _Now that,_ Tooru wonders, _was it because of joy, or because they'd known already?_

He can't really ask anymore. It's nearly 3 AM according to that godforsaken clock in his room, (he hasn't even seen the time pass, is it really three in the morning already?) and nobody was home except for him. _Just call the neighbours if you need anything_ , his mom said just before she left the house.

So there's only him, the selfish pale green stars and the planets of a strange pink which glow in the darkness of his room and again, the _godforsaken_ ticking clock. He closes his eyes and the sound drowns out his breathing, takes over the silence ringing in his ears, won't it please shut up, shut up, _shut up._

Tooru isn't aware of what he's done until he realizes how deafeningly quiet his room has become. That old clock is on the floor, small fragments of glass and broken plastic littering the floor, and he finds himself gripping one of the clock's metal hand a little too tightly.

He staggers back. Drops the clock's hand. A strangled sound escapes from his mouth. A laugh, a cry, he doesn't know. He doesn't care. He falls down, away from the broken pieces of the clock, away from what he's just destroyed. Tooru leans back on bed, tired and so, so lost.

“Iwa-chan,” he murmurs into the silence, hands covering his face. “I had a nightmare last night. It was dark, so very dark, and cold. It wasn't a pretty world. It was horrifying. There was panic everywhere. Fear. Terror. And all of that,” he continues, a little quieter, “was caused by me. A demon king, they called me.”

Tooru sits there, waiting. He waits and waits and waits but there's no response, no answer, not even the ticking of _the goddamned clock_ because _he broke it._ He removes his hands from his face, stares lifelessly at his hands. _Hands which set a ball so many times, served a ball so many times, received a spike so many times._

“For once, you weren't by my side,” Tooru says in a small voice. He ignores the tears that slide down his cheeks, the overwhelming silence and the lack of replies. “For once, I was actually alone. But then you came. And then,” he pauses for a second, breathes, “you killed me.”

He pulls his knees to his chest, wraps his arms around them, and waits. _Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan, where are you?_

“You were the best knight in that world, you see. It made complete sense that you'd get rid of me for the sake of the people. But Iwa-chan, even if I told you it was okay, why did you keep crying? And why—” Tooru chokes on the last words, buries his face in his arms— “ _why did you leave me?_ ”

There's no answer. Of course there's no answer. It's three in the morning and he's all alone in his room with broken shards of glass and plastic but all he can do is hope and hope and hope that _somebody_ will answer.

But no one does.

Tooru gets up, clumsily wipes his tears away, ignores the silence and leaves his room to get a broom and a dustpan. He comes back with both in hand, sweeps the mess away, bits by bits, pretends he can't hear Iwaizumi who would have chastised him, _how dumber can you get, Assikawa?_

 _So mean, Iwa-chan!_ Tooru would've replied.

He looks up at  his ceiling when he's done with the broken clock. He watches, stares at the pale green stars and the strange pink planets glow, then climbs on his bed. One by one, he removes them, haphazardly drops them on his bed, accidentally breaks a couple of them but he doesn't care. He grabs at a small one, scratches at the ceiling, scrapes but it doesn't come off.

He tries and tries and tries but he can't do it, _he's not good enough, please stop, just_ stop.

In the dead silence of the night, his phone rings. It's only a game notification, but Tooru gets down from his bed anyways. That one lone star is forgotten as he looks at his phone, but then he laughs. It's a strangled noise, unsure, full of disbelief, but still, he laughs until he's left gasping for air.

It's not even 3 AM, as his broken clock has told him, nowhere near that, actually. It's only an hour shy from midnight and Tooru's laughing (is it really laughing when tears mix together with it) at his own stupidity, his naivety because _of course it wouldn't be 3 AM already_.

He lets himself fall on his bed, tears and laughter still pouring out of him until only one of them remains. There are stars and planets lying around on his bed but he doesn't care, he can't bring himself to care. He rests his feet on the pillow, attempts to swallow the sobs that threaten to drown him, but his tears still don't stop.

“Iwa-chan.”

_I miss you._

“Iwa-chan.”

_Don't leave me behind._

“Hajime,” Tooru whispers, whimpers, murmurs as his voice breaks on the last syllable.

_Come back, come back, come back._

Through teary eyes, Tooru stares at the pale green of the only star left on his ceiling, looks at the view he's seen from childhood. No wonder it looked wrong, earlier that night. He's alone. He was lying in the right way on his bed.

Memories flood his mind and all he can see are the forest green eyes and spiky dark hair of his childhood friend. His face crumples as a new wave of tears overtake him, but all he can do is wail and hide behind his hands.

_Iwa-chan, I love you._

 

* * *

 

_To Iwa-chan—_

_Hajime graduated from elementary school yesterday! He looks a lot like me, you know? Same smile, same eyes. A pretty face! Unfortunate that he loves bugs as well. You guys would have gotten along well. It would've been nice if you both met._

_Then again, if you were still alive, he probably wouldn't be._

_Hey, Iwa-chan. I miss you. But I'll take my time. So, wait for me._

_Promise._

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to [Nishinoya4Yuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nishinoya4Yuu/pseuds/Nishinoya4Yuu) (power mom), [StarJem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarJem/pseuds/StarJem) (aunt), [loveintheveins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveintheveins/pseuds/loveintheveins) (mom) and [MajesticAnna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajesticAnna/pseuds/MajesticAnna) (teen mom) for dealing with my angst-and-death-loving self and for trying ~~and failing~~ at stopping me. y'all the best.
> 
> special thanks to [weirdmilk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdmilk/pseuds/weirdmilk) (mum) for doing the same, but also helping me with the editing! Now i know how to use semi colons. but i still won't use them.
> 
> tumblr | [@kunimint](https://kunimint.tumblr.com/)  
> reblog link | [x](https://kunimint.tumblr.com/post/173619029232/to-fall-dreaming-again-warning-major-character)


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